Acapulco: Getting There
It’s a very long hill down from Mexico City to Acapulco; it’s a mile high. We slid down that hill only a few days ago, Miguel in the driver’s seat, with me sitting next to him. It’s a great road. The terrain is rough, even if you have to pay some attention to notice that, since the tops of both sides of the road are covered by trees, mostly pines and firs at the upper part and a variety of deciduous trees in the lower segment.
But the trees and other vegetation are not the most remarkable thing about what makes it a great road. You don’t even have to look close to note that much of the well-paved path was cut out of high rocky mounts, having the well-paved ribbon move along curvy but gently downward toward the Pacific Ocean.
What is striking about this remarkable path is the way in which the walls, when the cuts are deep, are held in place—that is, are prevented from slithering down on the road. More work was needed on the right, the uphill side, which was often just sliced to create sheer walls, almost perpendicular. These rocky walls were treated in a variety of ways to stay put, so to speak. At times they were covered by immense black, probably plastic covers, somehow held down; other such walls were kept from crumbling by having dark stones attached, making quite attractive patterns. What was striking, whatever method of any others, was used, is the immense labor involved to secure these rocky cites, calling for a lot of people to scramble on these almost vertical sites.
Meanwhile (so to speak), the roadway was well paved and modulated (so to speak), so that the path from up a mile up down to the Pacific Ocean was a smooth and scenic voyage. Of course I did not have to do the driving, but thoroughly enjoyed my vantage point next to the guy who did the work. Miguel also told me that the road we were on was one of the most expensive ever built—at least in Mexico. It showed!
Not long after we hit bottom, with the road having flattened out, we arrived at our vacation destination, The Princess, a large and splendid establishment right on the ocean, with the sky an undeviating blue.
Acapulco: Being There
I correctly said, “large and splendid.” There are quite a few buildings, more than ten stories high, a—to me—unnumbered pools, irregularly shaped, looking as if nature had created them. I don’t know how many restaurants there are, but I am sure that they are all staffed with pleasant and competent young men—those are the only kinds I have experienced. Our rooms, mine adjacent and opening to, Miguel’s and Ellie’s is large and airy and well furnished. Luxury for the middle class I would say.
And that, I surmise, is where most of our fellow Princess-inhabitants belong. Probably at least a third, maybe more, are families with mostly one child, most of them pre-teens. I see them frolicking in the pool below from the balcony of my room.
We have breakfast in one of the restaurants. Lots of dishes seem to be available, though I stick to my small repertoire, delivered by a vastly more nimble Ellie. (I would not be in Purgatory, but in Hades without her!)
The day’s highlight was to spend a good chunk of time under a shading canvas at the ocean—service available. I watched a lot of little kids doing their thing in the ocean, but got sufficiently bored not to return the next day. Of course, Spanish was the going language at this ocean conversation; but since it was not mine, it left me out for long stretches.
Now we are back home in Ciudad Mexico. Still warm if not hot, but a bright blue sky. If I could pick my climate, I don’t think I could do better than Mexico City.